


Since When

by fabalafae22



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Blood, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Seizures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabalafae22/pseuds/fabalafae22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since New York, since everything went down, everyone's had to cope. Tony even convinced Bruce to live with him in the Tower. He's had a few incidents - nothing major - but then he realizes the Hulk recognizes Tony as someone he loves. While Tony wants to get his beau back out there with the team, all of this unearths complicated feelings and memories for Bruce - which doesn't provide a lot of room for logical decision-making.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Tony scrambled against the cabinets, prepared to call a suit or Jarvis to help if the Hulk decided to smash him. The beast snarled, looming in closer. Tony's breath came in shudders as the thing leaned down and roared in Tony's face; his eyes widened in the horror of what might happen next. The Hulk grabbed the now panicking mechanic, pulling him in with a massive green arm and turning them both around. But instead of throwing the smaller man around like a rag doll, the thing set him roughly on the counter before it chucked a desk chair across the room. It flipped over a work table and stomped and beat its cumbersome fists on anything available, grunting and growling fircely. Then the being leaned against the counter a few feet away from Tony's perch, breathing heavily, and suddenly began to shrink down. Light beige overtook the poisonous green; human features appeared under the skin of a monster. This incident was exceptionally short, and it appeared to come from next to nothing.

Once down to his regular size, Bruce collapsed. Tony lowered himself to the ground shakily, pulled an emergency blanket out of a first aid drawer - one of the only safety precautions of Jarvis's that Tony actually followed - and wrapped it around Bruce's shoulders. Banner was awake, surprisingly. He attempted to stand up, his eyes dazed, but Tony held him down.

"Did I-" Bruce gasped, looking into Tony's eyes. "Did I hurt you-"

"No, Bruce, look at me. I'm fine." Tony did his best to appear less shaken. He bit his lip. "Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but you – err, he – kind of picked me up and- and put me up there-" He gestured to the countertop. "-before doing all of this."

Bruce looked around the room in bewilderment.

"I- I think he recognized me, Bruce." Tony huffed a laugh of relief.

Bruce's head snapped back to meet Tony's gaze. He gulped."What?"

"I think the Jolly Green Giant recognized me." A small smile played at the playboy's lips.

"That's... that's impossible. I haven't had that since..." he whispered.

"New York," Tony finished.

"Yes, but before that... not since I... not since-" He scrubbed his face with his hands.

Tony blinked. "Betty?"

"I, yeah, I'm sorry." He pulled the blanket in further, clenching the hem tight beneath his fingers.

Tony rubbed the other man's shoulders. "Bruce, it's okay. Everything is okay," he soothed.

Bruce was shaking – hard. He felt sick to his stomach in a moment that should have been more celebratory.

Tony's brow furrowed. "We're okay, right?"

Bruce felt angry again, suddenly. Not Hulk-out angry, just a sort of sad anger that wallowed and clenched in his heart. Did he mean we or he or I? And what was with people asking if he was okay? Did he look fucking okay? It was like Natasha swearing on her own life that he would get out of that incident scot-free without leaving a dent, but that was never true. He always ended up destroying something, and it usually happened to be someone or something he cared about. He had detached himself after Betty, before New York – before Tony – because he had to, not because he wanted to. Bruce expected people like Natasha; maybe they cared, maybe not, but they were always afraid. Always. Always, except for Tony. Even Betty had her issues with it, but she had her own bullshit to deal with, so they were pretty evenly matched. The fact that Tony had been an exception scared Bruce more than the Other Guy did, more than the chance of hurting others did. Getting close to someone again, getting attached – it meant something would inevitably go wrong, and Bruce would either have to pick up the broken pieces or someone else would.

He looked at Tony and those big, brown eyes that reflected everything like a mirror – no, better than a mirror. Too hard to explain. He blinked. Then he realized maybe it was reassuring to hear a yes, even if you knew it was a lie.

"Yeah, we're fine," he croaked.

Tony laced his fingers through Bruce's curls and let his lips fall on the other man's forehead, breathing in his scent. Bruce smelled like warmth, however impossible that may be scientifically. The space between them was like a home Tony never knew and a home Bruce never had.

* * *

"He's only had two incidents since New York, Clint. Relax."

" _Only_ ," Barton repeated. "I'm gonna go 'head and guess you forgot those are triggers for you." The archer arched an eyebrow.

"That isn't the only thing." Tony rolled his eyes. "And I'm better now. Got the reactor up and running fine, my head's okay... I'm fine." He drummed his fingers against the metal chunk shrouded beneath his dark t-shirt.

" _You're_  fine. You're dating the city's finest monster, and-"

Tony stepped closer, closing the space between them. "Bruce is  _not a monster,_ " Tony growled, his eyes livid.

"Woah, hold on there." He put a hand on Tony's shoulder; the playboy glared at this gesture. Who did he think he was, Captain Spangly Shorts? "You know that's not what I meant. C'mon, man. Listen to me. Seeing a shrink was and is good for you, but I'm not sure taking Banner back out again is the best idea. You got him to stay in the city; that's enough for now." Clint removed his hand; he'd gotten the feeling Tony might bite it off.

Tony backed up. "He needs to feel good again. To let go once in a while. And if- if he recognizes me, Clint! This is a big deal! At least come inside and celebrate. I've restocked the bar," he offered, trying to seem like his more upbeat, partying self.

"I'll come, but I'm not drinkin'. Seems to me a beer with you means a lifetime of headaches."

They went up an elevator to Tony and Bruce's penthouse at Stark Tower. "Christ, how many fucking floors do you need?" Clint stared at the buttons; Tony could swear he'd asked this more than once, but each time it somehow seemed to Barton like they'd added new floors.

"Well, those ten are labs, those are work rooms, these are personal floors, recreation's over in this area..."

"Alright, alright, gotcha."He waved Tony's explanation away.

When they finally made it to the apartment, Tony immediately went over to the bar to pour himself a glass of scotch. Up to the rim. Clint eyebrows nearly shot to his hairline as he perched on a stool.

"What? I can't drink a glass of scotch in my own house?"

Clint sighed and rolled his eyes – a habit he must've picked up from Natasha. "Tony..."

"Save it, Robin Hood. I'm tired of people giving me shit."

"Tony, no one's-" He stopped to watch his friend down the entirety of the glass in one drawn out gulp. Clint shook his head and slid a hand over his face. "We're all just concerned about what's best for you, alright, Metal Head?"

"Geez, no need to get sentimental," Tony burped. Pleasant.

"Where is Bruce, anyway?"

"I don't know, upstairs, probably. He was pretty beat after last night."

"And you're not?"

Tony ignored that comment. "Jarvis, where's Bruce?"

"He left the premises last night at approximately ten-thirty, sir."

"Really? I thought he'd gone to bed..." Tony's eyes narrowed in thought.

"Tony?"

"Hmm?" He swiveled around, attempting to focus.

"Do you happen to know where he might've gone?"

"I am not currently equipped with that information, sir," Jarvis answered conveniently. Even he sounded worried.

Tony shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "I slept on the couch. Uh, Battlestar Galactica marathon." He gestured vaguely with one hand and searched his thoughts almost desperately. Where  _would_  Bruce go after an incident like that?

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

While Tony was on the couch and close to nodding off, Bruce slipped out the door and into the elevator. When he left the tower, the scientist began to wander, unsure of where his legs were taking him – not that it mattered. He just needed to get _out._

His gait was quick in the frigid night air that made his legs numb until each step was automatic and with a mechanical swiftness. The cold nibbled at his cheeks, and wind brushed against his jacket.People passed, the crowds slowly starting to thin. He crossed street after street and cut through alleyways.

Eventually, he happened upon a small liquor store, or a L__UOR store, as the sign read; the "I" and "Q" were missing. How fitting. Bruce snorted in amusement. The sign buzzed eagerly as Bruce walked toward the dingy building. He opened the front door, and the gruff-looking cashier jerked his head up at the sound of tinkling bells overhead; he'd been sleeping on the job. Bruce scanned the aisles. He didn't drink much; sometimes he'd have a glass of wine or a beer with Tony, but beyond that, he avoided the stuff. It gave him less control over his actions, and Bruce craved control as much as possible. The Hulk had taken so much of that away from him. There was another reason he didn't like liquor so well, but Bruce didn't want to think about that. Tonight, he had to get something to numb himself – take the edge off so he could pass out and forget all of his emotions and worries for one night. He rolled out a bottle of rum - hadn't tasted the stuff in years. That ought to do it.

He approached the clerk, who had begun to nod off again, so Bruce let the bottle rest on the counter with a hard clunk. The man with a scruffy beard and a Giants cap jerked up. “That all?” He asked, scanning the long bottle.

“Yeah.”

“That'll be eleven sixty-two. ID, please.” Banner searched his wallet to find that he'd left his ID at home. The clerk gazed at Bruce and nodded understandingly as he passed him a crumpled twenty. “Rough night?”

“Yeah.” Bruce nearly laughed. He had no idea.

The scientist took his bag, thanked the generous clerk, dropped his change and a few bills in the tip jar, and left. There was a Motel 6 about two blocks from here, he remembered. Bruce trekked on until he passed the blinding neon sign with a red “6” that was about his height. He paid for a room and jammed the key into a green door with the paint beginning to peel off. Upon entering the somewhat dilapidated space, Bruce just looked around. It was a far cry from Stark Tower, but he'd lived in worse. Much worse. He lowered onto the creaking mattress and turned on the TV. As he stuffed the remaining dollar bills back in his wallet, Banner pulled out a photo of he and Tony from a credit card pocket. He then remembered that he could be at home right now. With Tony. In a nice, king-size bed with sheets that had a thousand thread count and pillows stuffed with the chest hair of Greek gods. All he had to do was walk back and gently wake Tony up from his slumber. They could slip into bed together, and Bruce would wake up in the morning to the smell of coffee and maybe something burning on the stove. Even Jarvis couldn't improve Tony's “cooking” skills at a certain point.

He loved all of it, but tonight, there was something inside him that couldn't take it – any of it. With that in mind, he opened up the bottle of rum, gulped down a third of it while watching some soap opera that somehow seemed less dramatic than his life, and passed out on the bed, never even slipping beneath the sheets.

Staring at that photo had reminded him of a different sort of emotion, or feeling, whichever term was appropriate he wasn't sure. It reminded him of a complicated sort of wanting and simultaneous _not_ wanting. When he'd first visited Stark Tower, that was when it occurred to him that Tony had not only been asking him to go on a tour, but on a date as well. Tony had literally grabbed the emergency blanket from his primary laboratory and laid it on the floor. They'd had a picnic right there on the tile floor. And when Tony had leaned in to kiss him, it was all so very right, but something in the back of Bruce's mind told him otherwise. He'd pulled back, with Tony's face inches from his own. His hand rested on Bruce's thigh.

"Is something wrong?" Tony wasn't used to so much resistance.

"I just...don't do so great with-" he grunted, moving Tony's hand from his leg, "-physical contact." Tony raised his eyebrows.

Bruce rubbed his face with both hands, trying to wipe the anxiety from his mind. "Sorry... I don't... I'm not used to..."

"People willingly touching you," Tony finished. He wasn't stupid.

"Yeah, I, um, it's been a while, to say the least."

“Well...” Tony cast his eyes downward in an unusually shy way, then looked up with his regular playfulness. “I happen to be _more_ than willing.” He leaned in again, slowly – fantastically and amazingly slowly so that Bruce could compose himself – and their lips met. It was gentle, chaste, and not at all rushed, even in the most minute sense. It was as if they had all the time in the world betwixt their lips. This was a feeling Bruce _never_ wanted to let go, he decided right there. He reached up gradually, fingers trembling, and laced his fingers in Tony's mass of dark, wavy hair, breathing in all the other man gave. It was like a gift. A mutual gift that neither of them was intent on giving up.

* * *

 

As the rum started to disappear, Bruce's awareness of his surroundings began to lack, but oddly enough, his memories were heightened. His mind shifted to a similar situation. He could remember just a week and a half ago when he and Tony were sitting on what had been Tony's bed, in the middle of a passionate kiss – the kind that would have lead to sex in any normal situation. Tony slid his hand deeper in Bruce's thigh, closer to his groin. The other hand fumbled with the scientist's belt. Bruce pulled back.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Tony breathed, looking at him with concern.

"It's not you.... it's, well, it's me."

Again.

Tony laughed haughtily. "Really? The break-up speech? For this? You're not breaking up with me, are you?" Tony sat up and nudged Bruce's knee lightly. Was he?

“No, no, I'm just... nervous is all.”

"I won't hurt you; I promise.”

Bruce chuckled. "That's funny... you think-" He shook his head. "You think I'm worried that you're going to hurt me? No, I'm worried about... about..."

"You hurting me?" Tony looked at him quizzically. "Bruce, you don't have to worry about that."

Bruce bit back a sad sort of smile and shook his head slowly. "Oh, but I do," he said finally.

Tony shook his head defiantly. "No."

How could he explain? How does one explain this sort of thing? 'I might turn into a giant gorilla-man-type-thing that could take you and the rest of the block down in about an hour?' Bruce shook his head again. He'd just have to say it. "You really just don't get it, do you? _I'm_ that monster that attacked Harlem those years ago. I'm the one that- that smashed _several_ buildings in New York to pieces. I'm-"

"The one that stopped me from hitting the ground at indefinite acceleration as I plummeted towards Earth? The guy that helped save New York by beating the living shit out of huge aliens? I was there, Bruce. I know what I saw – and heard. And I am _not_ afraid of you. I'm just not buying it." Tony gulped, trying to keep a firm, engaged expression. He was talking about New York. He wasn't quite ready for this; there was a step before it that the therapist had laid out for him, but Tony couldn't remember and he didn't care. He could skip it. "So, please, stop being so afraid of yourself. Save that for the bad guys."

Bruce sighed with an air of resignation. So maybe he wasn't a bad guy. Maybe that was possible, but did that matter? Even if he played for the right team, did all the right things, something would go wrong. Something.

"What if I-"

Tony stopped him with a sharp gesture. "You're so paranoid, it isn't healthy. I should know. It's okay to be _nervous_ , but you can't let it rule your life. You gotta go for what you want. How long's it been? Two months?"

"Two months, six days, and..." Bruce looked at his watch. "three and a half hours. Give or take."

There's the Bruce I know...” Tony stopped, not ready to say it. Or was he? Fuck it, he was. This was Bruce goddamn Banner here, and he'd known for a while. “-and love.”

Bruce's head came up so fast, Tony was afraid he might snap his neck. “What?”

Tony grinned devilishly. “You heard me.”

Bruce wasn't sure if he could breathe. Did Tony just...? Did he...?? He swallowed in a breath. “I love you, too.”

He meant it.

Tony kissed him lightly, but Bruce responded harder. “Okay,” he breathed.

“Okay?”

“I think I'm ready for little more.”

"You want to try again?" Tony hadn't expected that reaction. He'd just expected a kiss like they normally would.

Bruce nodded slowly.

"Okay, try taking off your shirt,” Tony instructed. He'd never done this before – never had to, really.  
Bruce fixed his trembling fingers over one of the top buttons. This was still not working. His fingers just would not move the way he wanted them to. Tony cautiously removed Bruce's hand and began unbuttoning the shirt himself. Then he slid it over Bruce's shoulders and carefully splayed his fingers across Bruce's chest hair, slowly rubbing his way down. Bruce slowly began to recline as Tony just touched him. He was almost at the scientist's navel when Bruce gasped. Tony paused. “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?"

“No, I just... it's not... go ahead. I'll be fine.” Tony continued to let his hand go lower until he was fingering underneath the waist of Bruce’s pants. He let his fingers grace the hem of the scientist boxers. Bruce flinched and scrambled to sit up, drawing his knees into his chest. “Sorry, oh god, sorry,” he murmured.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Bruce lifted his gaze.

“You have nothing to apologize for. That's alright. You wanna go out tonight? Come on, we'll do whatever you want. I'll just be a minute.” Tony planted a kiss on Bruce's lips and got up to walk toward the bathroom.

Bruce tugged back on the maroon shirt he was wearing that was probably Tony’s. It smelled like his cologne. Bruce took a deep breath, letting the scent fill his nostrils, and pushed the air out slowly. Why was he so afraid to be intimate with Tony? This man wanted him, craved him, even, and Bruce felt the same - well, he would feel the same if he wasn’t so damn anxious. How was Tony even being this patient? Bruce knew from, well, everyone that Tony wasn’t exactly wearing a purity ring before they started dating, and the most they'd done was this. Stopped every time. Sure, Bruce had touched Tony before, but never below the belt. It had been only a little more intimate than this. Control was what Bruce craved, and touching Tony meant that he could stop himself before anything happened that wasn't supposed to. He... was working on it.

* * *

 

Then, the world and all Bruce's memories faded to a welcoming, enveloping black for a while.

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

“He left his phone.” Tony's throat began to tighten.

“Tony,” Steve spoke in a gentle tone that still managed to sound firm. Clint had called him when they realized Banner left. “He's going to come back.”

“How do you know?” Tony's voice was edgy, desperate.

“He'll come back because he can.”

“Oh, unlike you? A man out of his time?” He challenged.

Rogers nodded. “I didn't have a choice. He does.”

Tony could feel the guilt settling in for being such an asshole. Steve was just trying to help. But his thoughts quickly shifted back to Bruce. “What if... he let the Other Guy out again and he's hurt somewhere and-”

“Come on.” Steve gripped Tony's upper arm. “Let's go.”

“Where are we going?” He hoped it was to look for Bruce.

“Out. If you keep working yourself up like this, you're going to have another attack.” Tony's heart sank. “You hungry? 'Cause I'm starving. Let's go for lunch.” Clint followed behind them.

* * *

 

It was nearly three in the afternoon when Bruce woke up. Shit, when did he even pass out last night? He turned off the TV and looked at the open bottle of rum on the nightstand. He had to get home. There was a just enough money in his wallet for a bus pass and maybe some food – definitely not enough for a cab. After he washed up and grabbed some McDonald's, Bruce took a bus back home.

He shuffled in the front door of the tower and took the elevator up. Once he reached the penthouse, someone grabbed him roughly from the side and pushed him back through the sliding doors. Natasha? Nope, Steve. What the hell? The Captain wordlessly pressed the button that would take them to Tony's workshop while Banner stood in shock.

"Do you know what you did?" Steve's voice was so... parental, so stern. His eyes were livid. Bruce had never seen him so angry, not even at Tony.

All Bruce could manage was a rather helpless, "What?"

"I know it may not seem like a lot to you, just escaping into the night to God knows where, but that really scared the hell out of Tony. Did you know you almost caused him to have another attack?" He pointed a large finger at Bruce.

"No, I didn't mean to..."

"Well, I highly doubt you would _mean_ to do that, but it happened. And me and Clint had to take the punch. Not helpful, just so you know. He kept coming up with scenarios where you'd been hurt and he was afraid you wouldn't come back. I almost used a damn sedative on him, Banner!"

"Woah, woah, slow down. I'm still..." Bruce's head was pounding as a result of last night. "Okay, what happened after I left?"

"Well, Tony thought you were still sleeping – he told us what happened last night, so that seemed plausible – but then Jarvis said you'd left. You left your phone, too."

"Well, I don't know what Tony is and isn't tracking, and I kind of wanted to be left alone, alright?"

"You could have left a damn note."

"I didn't think about it."

"Well, try that next time, alright?" The two men stood in silence for a moment.

"Thanks."

"For?"

"For whatever you did when I was out. Keeping Tony in check."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you're okay, though. Tony's paranoia was starting to spread to the rest of us."

"Sorry." Bruce wrapped his arms around himself with a downcast glance.

Steve nodded, his arms also crossed. "I'm not the one who needs the apology."

The doors opened, and Steve all but shoved Bruce through them. As soon as Clint saw this, he hurried into the elevator, and the doors closed again. Bruce was left alone with Tony. He didn't know what to say.

Tony put on a fake smile. "Did you have a nice night?"

"Tony, I..." The words wouldn't come out.

Stark's smile fell as he looked away. "I thought we could go out or something today. You know, celebrate. But I guess you had different plans."

"Look, I just needed some alone time. I didn't mean to do that to you."

Tony waved his explanation away. "That's okay. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I told you I'm good at screwing up. You didn't listen."

Tony slammed his palms onto the counter. "Jesus, Banner, would you quit throwing yourself a pity party here?"

Bruce looked up, startled.

"We _all_ have our issues. I'm a spaz, Thor's trying to keep the fucking planet in check because his brother went batshit on an entire city, you've got the Hulk, Nat and Clint have blood on their hands – not to mention Clint having his brain picked apart like a tofu salad-” Tony hardly stopped to take a breath. “Cap's out of his fucking mind because everyone he loved is dead and he's living in a different goddamn era, Fury lost an eye, some good men, and almost lost his job, Phil should be dead, and you know what? We're all just dealing with it.” Tony actually breathed this time, treading into a more sentimental area. “ _You're_ dealing with it, and I'm proud of you, but don't keep up this fucking charade because I don't have time for it. I want to be with you, however you see fit, but that shouldn't include you disappearing in the middle of the night and coming back like nothing happened!"

Bruce just stood there a moment, too stunned to speak. Tony was right, and he knew it. He could see pain in Tony's eyes and recognized the feeling of abandonment and worry. He'd been through it before, someone just up and leaving in the night. Bruce could feel the guilt settling in his stomach. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Tony sighed and shook his head. "Same."

"If it helps any, I have a fucking awful hangover." Bruce furrowed his brow slightly in almost puppy dog eyes – well, as much as he could with his head throbbing like it was.

"You? Were drinking?"

"Yeah, I, ah, got a bottle of rum from a corner store and slept alone in a motel."

"Uh, gross?" Tony wrinkled his nose playfully. "Come on, you look like you could use some coffee." He clapped Bruce on the back – a bit roughly on purpose – as they walked toward the elevator.

* * *

 

That night, Bruce knocked on Tony's bedroom door. He had taken habit of sleeping in Tony's bed – even after a fight. The guest bedroom was seeing less and less use, and this pleased Tony. Every night he slept in there, Bruce would first stand by the door and ask, "Do you mind?" As if Tony was going to say, "Yes, please leave." He always said no, he didn't mind at all in the most convincing way possible, yet Bruce always asked, and it had become a bit of routine – at least for those nights.

Tonight, after that bit of play and a bit of intimacy, it was well into the night when Tony began having a nightmare, and Bruce woke up to the soft moans and twitching movements of his distraught boyfriend. He placed a quivering hand on Tony's back, rubbing circles in the array of muscles, and moving over to his arm, letting his thumb do the same until Tony's erratic breathing calmed down. Bruce realized just how simple that had been. Just a gentle touch. _He_ had comforted someone. Amazing, wasn't it?He'd done it before, but each time still seemed remarkably foreign.

The habit Tony had developed was jerking off in the shower – but that habit had been going on longer than a few weeks. That was how he kept to himself most of the time because if Bruce wasn't ready for sex, Tony wasn't about to pressure him. When they would get so, _so_ close, and Bruce would pull away at the very last second, Tony would have another hot "shower" and come out feeling pretty good. He had a feeling it wasn't a secret either. How many showers can one take in a day without reminding a man of his teenage years? Nevertheless, before they had gone to sleep, this had been one of those nights. Bruce had been touching him this time, running his hands over Tony's arm muscles, down to the curve of his hips, circling his nipples over and over, and letting his tongue grace Tony's mouth, then his neck, shoulders... Of course he'd managed to get Tony's shirt off; Tony would do anything to be close if Bruce would let him. Banner purposely avoided the arc reactor this night; Tony told him it was under construction, but they both knew what he really meant. Sensitive day. Nothing more to it than that.

Anyway, the more Bruce tempted Tony, the more forgiving the shower seemed. He'd think of Bruce's hands stumbling and sliding along his body, fingering his cock right through the fabric. It drove him absolutely wild. If he hadn't known any better, Tony could swear Bruce was doing it on purpose. He leaned his left forearm up against the tile wall while his right hand did the work. Tony grunted and groaned into the delicate strokes that eventually grew stronger. Bruce's tangled curls came to mind, those calloused fingers, Bruce's pink lips and cheeks that turned the same color when he was embarrassed, and Bruce's voice, choosing words so carefully, as if each sentence was a poem that had uneven meters – unless he was particularly excited and couldn't contain it. His dark eyes lit up so bright, and that reminded Tony that Bruce made him feel more special than anyone had ever made him feel. Crowds, expos, fans - they couldn't do that, whatever it was. Then Tony imagined what lay underneath Bruce's trousers and saw what was above that: his strong arms, occasional prickly stubble, the rug of chest hair. With one final stroke, Tony came, eyes closed and back arched as he panted each staggering breath.

Bruce knew that Tony was aching for him. He could even feel it in his own body. Every time he looked at Tony's pleading, wanting eyes, it was like a mirror. But the man on the other side was successful and heroic and gorgeous, and Bruce was just... well, Bruce. Tony made him feel like something else, though. Not a monster, not even just a regular guy. Tony made him feel like some kind of messed up hero that could also maybe even have a normal life like he'd wanted. Betty could never even give him that, and this was his chance. He couldn't let someone like this go. He loved Tony more than anything, and it was time to show him.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

There was blood on Tony's hands. How fitting; he laughed cruelly inside. Where was it all coming from? It was everywhere. So much blood. Too much. He looked down and there was Bruce, lying in the desert sand, covered in red. Tony's breath caught in his throat and his heart was in hyper-drive. He couldn't breathe. His vision was starting to blur, but he couldn't feel the tears. No, not again. He couldn't freak out now. Deep breaths. Come on, don't do this. Not now. Tony dropped to his knees in front of the injured scientist. Off to his right, he could see a bomb with a Stark Industries logo. That didn't make sense; the explosive had already detonated. Whatever. Didn't matter. What do should he do now? Sand and dust blew into his face as Tony shielded himself with one arm. Looking back at Bruce, he could see blood caking the earth beneath the other man's body.

“Bruce, look at me.” Tony's own voice was foreign to him. “You're going to be okay.” A horrid lie. “I can't lose you. I can't-” He shuddered a breath and Bruce's chapped lips formed a weak, cracked smile.

“No, it's alright, Tony. You'll be okay without me. I wasn't meant to last this long, anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

Bruce's gaze lowered slowly.

“No, come on, Bruce! Look- look at me!” He urged in desperation.

Just then, Tony felt a hand touch his back and begin to move in circles. He wheeled around unsteadily, and there stood Dr. Bruce Banner, alive and well. Tony turned back to where his beau had been laying just moments before in the sand, approaching death like an old friend. That Bruce was no where to be seen. The blood was gone, too. The new Bruce stroked Tony's arm as they both sunk into the sand.

“I'm here,” his Bruce murmured. “I'm here.”

* * *

 

Bruce woke up with his arm draped around Tony; he was spooning the engineer from behind. He found himself reluctant to remove the protective warmth from Tony's folded form, but the scientist really wanted to take a shower. He'd been too tired to after Tony had gotten out of the bathroom last night and had fallen asleep not long after that. He cautiously removed his arm, then placed pillows against Tony's back and readjusted the blankets around him. Banner glanced at the clock. Five-thirty. Why in the world was he up at five-thirty AM? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he'd slept through most of the day before.

Nevertheless, Bruce got up and removed his bite guard, the thing that kept him from grinding his teeth at night. He found it embarrassing – the stupid thermoplastic device molded to fit his teeth – but Tony had assured him he was normal by the playboy's standards. Stark had even revealed that he himself had worn orthodontic headgear back in the day – talk about embarrassing.

Bruce ran the shower water and stepped inside as steam began to fog the glass. He stood there, just soaking it all in for a moment and then moved on to actually wash himself. When he emerged from the warmth, feeling much more awake, Bruce dried himself off and hung the towel back on the rack. He stepped into the room sans clothing, figuring Tony would still be asleep. The playboy cracked one eye open and attempted to bite back a grin. Bruce noticed. His face immediately flushed red as he snatched a shirt from the floor and held it in front of his nether regions.

“No, no, put that down,” Tony muttered sleepily. “You-” his mouth stretched into a yawn “-you look great. Just like that.”

“Liar,” Bruce muttered, glancing at the dresser drawer that held some of his clothes that had made their way into Tony's room. He could be incredibly insecure at times.

“Not lying. Look at me. Do I look like I'm lying?” Tony propped his head up on one of the pillows Bruce had laid down. His expression was honest – that much Bruce could tell.

“Not really...”

“See? And _you_ are packing some serious heat, sweetheart.”

Bruce's cheeks were growing even redder; was that possible? He wasn't sure. “Okay, now _that's_ the lie.” He was average. Maybe slightly above, given that average meant five and a half inches – a mainly useless fact he'd absorbed at one point or another. But still.

“All I'm saying is that everything looks superb from here.” Tony pushed the covers off of himself and lifted himself up from the mattress. Bruce turned his back and began pulling on some clothes rather hastily. “Someone's in a hurry.” Tony came up from behind, tugging lightly at Bruce's arm. “What's the rush, big guy?”

“Research. Ideas. Need to keep working. Is that okay?” Bruce looked to Tony for reassurance.

“Yeah, I mean I guess so. Just thought we could do something before I go to my meeting with a bunch of boring old stiffs.”

Bruce freed his arm and kissed Tony lightly on the cheek. “I wish I could, but I really gotta get this out of my head. I'm sorry,” he said sheepishly, edging his way toward the bedroom door.

“'S okay. I'll go, uh, I don't know. I'll meet you up there.”

“Okay,” Bruce called from down the hall.

Tony walked into the bathroom, feeling the last remnants of steam from Bruce's shower. He splashed his face with water and looked into the mirror, studying the age lines in his face. There were little creases everywhere. When did _that_ start? Whatever. Didn't matter. Tony looked at the clock. It was early. Why the hell was it so early? Coffee would help fix that.

Tony made his way up to their main lab, carrying two warm mugs full of warm, caffeinated liquids – his coffee and Bruce's tea. The engineer had sort of taken a nose dive into his thoughts. He recollected what he'd just seen in his own bedroom. And about what he might be able to use that thought for later. And what he might be able to do at some point with the person it concerned. And when that situation might arise. Okay, he really had to stop thinking about that.

Stark passed a closed lab full of reactor-related technology. Talking to Clint the day before reminded him of not too long ago when things weren't so settled. For a while, the arc reactor in Tony's chest had been misbehaving. He just couldn't bring himself to mess with it again. But it was getting worse. At one point, it felt like there was a gaping hole in his chest. There was, of course, a hole, but he'd stuck a cork in it years ago. Should be fine.

Tony swallowed as Bruce peered at the reactor through his glasses and then removed them so he could see better. Tony was lying on his exam chair; Bruce had convinced him to deal with the issue – finally. The clever scientist had threatened to tell Pepper, and who wanted that? Tony watched as Bruce's fingers neared his chest.“I wouldn't touch that if I were you.”

Bruce's hand dropped. “I won't.”

“Or really even look...”

Bruce pursed his lips with an uneasy expression then decidedly walked over to face the wall. “Better?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

Tony let his trembling fingers come up to take hold of the outer rim of his reactor. He clicked it out of place, and the heart monitor responded immediately. Tony knew right away by the look of things he had to clean out the inside and replace the back chip. He wished he could do it more quickly, but that would risk damage, and he and the reactor were already unstable enough.

“Everything going okay?” Bruce asked, still facing the wall.

“Ye-yeah, everything's fine...” Tony grunted, gently tugging the main cable. He then replaced the chip with a fresh one and used something that looked like it was from a dentist's office to clean out some of the plasma pooling at the bottom and sticking to the sides. Not so bad. He put the reactor back in place with a click. It began to vibrate and light up – but it was much brighter than normal.

“G-oh, Jesus, what the hell,” he gasped.

“Tony?” Bruce called, his voice full of concern.

“Just a minute!” Tony's fingers snatched desperately at his chest as a series of inarticulate noises escaped his throat. Energy wracked his body, and the heart monitor to his right beeped frantically. The light in his chest was not dimming; in fact, it appeared to be getting brighter.

Unable to resist any longer, Bruce turned around sharply. “Oh my god- Tony.” He strode over to his boyfriend, whose eyes were wide with fear. “Listen to me. I need to get in there, alright? I'm going to push in the back chip further because I have a feeling it's loose. You're going to have to trust me.”

Stark couldn't say anything, but he nodded and squeezed his eyes shut.

Bruce gently clicked the reactor out of place again and adjusted the little electromagnet he'd read so much about. The light began to go down as he returned the reactor to its position in Tony's sternum. His pulse was slowly going back to normal as well. Bruce tenderly stroked the other man's mass of dark hair.

“That's it; you're alright now.”

Tony gripped the arm rests to sit up and wrapped his arms protectively around himself, trembling slightly. “Can we just... not-”

Bruce reigned him into a gentle hug around the shoulders. “It's okay,” he soothed. “You're safe with me.”

Tony believed that; he always had.

* * *

 

The lab doors slid open, and Tony stepped inside the room and out of his thought bubble. “I bring stimulants,” he announced.

Bruce looked up from a screen to smile at him. “Great. Thanks.”

Tony came up behind him and slid his arms around Bruce's waist. “So, what are we looking at here?”

Bruce welcomed the touch. Which was odd, actually. First off, he was working. Secondly, well, he was normally rather freakish about this sort of thing. That's how he saw it, anyway. But now he didn't tense up or squirm or anything. And that made Bruce feel remarkably normal, which was kind of hard to come by for him. “As of now, nothing. Nothing that makes sense anyway. Figures don't add up. It's... frustrating, to be honest.” He removed his glasses and set them on the work table.

“Don't worry, you'll get it.” Tony lightly pressed his lips into the crook of Bruce's neck.

The computer beeped. Test results.

Tony released Bruce from the embrace as Bruce tentatively approached the screen and stared at it. It was...

Nothing. Again. What a waste. Actually, Bruce felt like the waste. He had failed, of course. Never good enough, not even when he was a kid. The disappointment that coursed through him began to simmer with green. Bruce ground his teeth together; it wasn't just a sleep thing, but also an anger thing.

“Any luck?”

“Nope.” Bruce wasn't lucky. He didn't even know if luck existed.

Tony began to ramble behind him, trying to reassure Bruce that everything would be fine. It should've helped.

It didn't.

The doctor tried to stop clenching his jaw, stop the tensing muscles and curling fists. He was digging his nearly nonexistent nails into his palms. Banner needed to breathe.

Tony put a hand on his shoulder, which Bruce promptly shrugged off. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just... do you want to maybe stop talking?” Bruce tried his best not to sound angry in the hopes that he wouldn't _be_ angry. Tony was just getting on his nerves a bit; it wasn't like it hadn't happened before. And he wasn't even really mad at Tony. Bruce was more upset with himself.

“Sure, okay,” Tony agreed, sounding concerned and a bit deflated.

Great, Bruce was going to fuck up his relationship as well. How fitting.

“I'm not... I'm not angry at you. I'm angry with myself, okay?” Bruce tried his best to reassure the engineer. “I just need some space.”

Tony nodded. There was plenty of space. He could do that – make space. The billionaire perched himself on the counter top some feet away, occasionally pitching ideas as Bruce worked. This would've been fine – great, even – if research wasn't going so horribly and Tony didn't get off topic so much. Bruce needed to focus.

“I- can we... pick this up later? You have a plane to catch in-” Bruce looked at his watch. “-two hours, and you're not even dressed.”

Tony looked down at his t-shirt and sweatpants and shrugged. “It's my plane. It can wait.”

“That'll just make Pepper mad, and I... I would prefer to work alone for today, okay?” He tried to look as innocent as he wanted his words to be.

Tony's brows furrowed. “You sure?”

Bruce nodded and quickly kissed him on the lips. “Yeah. I'll see you when you get back.”

Tony immediately wished the kiss had been longer. He wanted to feel wanted, but obviously Bruce didn't want him now, and that was okay. Kind of.

“Yeah, I'll see you then. Love you,” Tony added hopefully.

“You too,” Bruce said, adjusting figures on a screen.

Meanwhile, Tony tried to convince himself that everything was fine and leaving Bruce Banner alone and stressed-out so he could work was ultimately the right thing to do.

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like flip sides of a coin, they're one in the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a relatively quick update compared to the wait for chapter four.

Tony got on his plane. He got on and Pepper was waiting for him and she was shocked because he was early. Tony Stark was _early._ For a _flight._ That led to a _meeting._

“Are you alright?” She asked immediately. “You're early.”

If only she knew. “'M fine, why? Man can't enjoy the perks of flying before the actual flight?”

“You hate flying,” she reminded him, concern still plaguing her countenance.

“No, I hate airplanes. Suit flies, I love flying. Planes are boring,” he said pointedly.

Pepper was going to make a remark about the half-naked women and occasional men he used to bring along on flights and if the lack of distraction was making him restless, but there was something in his face that made her stop. “Okay,” she said simply. Because she knew Tony wouldn't want to talk about it. Maybe she would try and squeeze whatever it was out of him during their flight. They had a good four hours at the very least.

Sitting in his seat, waiting for Pepper to come back, Tony went over what had happened in the lab. He let his brain assess the situation repeatedly because he had time for that shit now and he couldn't think about anything else. Anything but that curly head of hair and the disappointed look on Bruce's face. The way he could tell Bruce didn't want him there and was trying not to say it directly. Bruce was considerate. Tony was not. At least, he didn't feel like he was. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized how stupid he had been. He'd been acting like a needy child trying to get his father's attention while he was working – and fuck, that was familiar. Nope, couldn't go down that road. Tony tried as he might to push that thought back down into the depths from which it had come. Old habits die hard or don't die at all, he guessed.

Pepper sat down next to him without saying anything. She wanted to, though, and that's why she kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye as she pretended to look at their schedule for the hundredth time. Tony didn't even have a drink in hand. Though he felt like he probably should have one there. The taste in his mouth wasn't pleasant, but then again alcohol wasn't going to fix that.

“You can tell me any time you like,” Pepper said without looking up.

“What makes you think there is something?” Tony stared down at his hands, then back at the window, then his hands again.

“Well, you're acting weird, even for you; you're too quiet. And you look upset, Tony.” She clicked her tablet off and turned to him. “Did you guys have a fight?”

“What? No. I mean, not really. We're fine, everything's fine. It's all very... fine.” He just wanted to stop thinking about this. Stop talking, stop thinking, maybe start drinking. Scotch sounded good. He needed a distraction.

“Fine,” she repeated. “Are you sure? You don't look fine.” Pepper put her hand over his. “You know you can tell me anything.”

He retracted his hand, and hunched himself over a bit, resting his knees on his elbows and chin on his fists. “Okay, you caught me. You got time for sappy shit? 'Cause that's where this is headed. But you tell no one, under any circumstances, what I'm about to say. Capiche?”

Pepper held back a smile. She'd won, of course. And Tony needed the outlet. “Capiche.”

So, Tony told her about how Bruce had walked out just yesterday after yet another incident and how distant he was being and how Tony just didn't know what to do anymore because for all he knew he'd left the Hulk at home and he was so, so stupid for doing that and he should just go back home and make sure Bruce was okay because he'd never be able to focus on business-y crap with all this shit whizzing through his head. And of course, Pepper listened. She reassured him that it was just Bruce being Bruce and with the new environment and all the stress, he was just getting a little restless with himself. It had nothing to do with Tony. She said sometimes you couldn't just help with things like that. He'd just have to try and be there for Bruce when he needed it. And maybe Tony should tell him how he felt. Ha, that was a laugh. She had to be joking. _Tony_ should tell _Bruce_ how he was _feeling?_ That didn't even sound possible. But he didn't tell Pepper that.

“Thanks,” he said instead.

“My pleasure.”

* * *

 

“Dr. Banner, it is now twelve o' clock in the afternoon.”

Bruce jumped. He'd told the AI to remind him when it was time for lunch so he wouldn't forget. He did that sometimes. Despite the fact that he could cook rather well, sometimes he wouldn't eat for a while until it became a serious problem and he was lightheaded and the world was spinning – or until Tony told him to go eat something. And then Bruce would get up and eat like he was starving because the Other Guy had a nearly insatiable appetite compared to his.

The scientist sighed and rubbed his eyes, which were starting to lose focus after staring at the screen. “Thanks, Jarvis. I'll go make something.”

“Might I suggest something with a high carbohydrate content to better your energy levels, as well as proteins to appease your alter ego.”

Bruce chuckled. Appease the Hulk? Yeah, okay. “I'll try that.”

Jarvis then offered to draw up a menu, but there was so much food in the fridge that Bruce turned him down. He'd just gone grocery shopping, and Tony pretty much handed him a blank check and said 'have at it,' which was both nice and weird. Bruce wasn't used to that. He'd learned how to ration what he could because he often didn't know where his next meal was coming from. But Tony assured him that wasn't necessary.

“You seem like a Whole Foods kinda guy,” he'd said. “Pick out some organic blueberries; I don't care.”

And even though he wasn't even close to being a chef, Tony Stark hated being hungry – for pretty apparent reasons. Normal hungry was fine, but there was a line between that and starving, and crossing it or even teetering on the edge of it brought back some very distressing memories for the battered mechanic. It was like running a car until the needle rested on empty; Tony didn't want to be pushed along the shoulder of the interstate. Food meant health. Food meant comfort. When the billionaire became absorbed in his work and he ignored something as important as food, Bruce knew there was something very wrong.

Sleep, for the most part, was the opposite between them. Bruce would get consumed by his work, sure, but sleep was his main escape from stress and anxiety, and oddly enough, he didn't often find himself woken by nightmares like his boyfriend. His dreams were more fragments by the time he woke up. Sometimes they had to do with the Other Guy – which were likely the beast's memories that had found their way into Banner's subconscious – and sometimes not. But not having to remember them or wake up in the middle of the night to do so was a great blessing among turmoil, he supposed. Tony had once jokingly remarked that he had enough nightmares for the both of them.

Bruce wasn't sure how to feel about that.

* * *

 

“Mr. Stark?” Some big-suit-CEO-guy called to him from across the table as long as a hallway.

“Yeah, just schedule that for... next week. That work for you?” Tony asked Pepper. He looked up from his legal pad where he'd been doodling armor designs in the margins.

Pepper looked at him with a bit of frustration. The least he could do was pay attention. “Yes, that's perfect.”

“And why don't you send over some of your designs for the Green Project. I'm sure that would be be of use. _If_ that's what you were leaning towards. You know, Stark Industries could always use some more greens on our plate.” Tony chuckled to himself at the inside joke, but kept a cocky smile. He waggled his eyebrows at Pepper; Tony had been paying attention.

* * *

 

Bruce's research was going absolutely nowhere, and it was becoming unbearably frustrating. The feeling burned inside him like a hot iron that poked its way through to a pit of boiling, green acid. No matter how many ideas he came up with, one after the other after the other failed. The computer, the microscope, and the Other Guy were all mocking him now. After taking one last look at some disappointing and infuriating figures on the screen in front of him, the scientist stood up – nearly knocking over his chair – and began to pace. He crossed the lab a few times before letting out an exasperated cry and punching the wall with a grunt, which sent a wave of pain through his right arm. His nerve's tingles and his knuckles throbbed. He didn't break skin, thankfully. But there was a dent in the wall now. Bruce sighed and searched reluctantly for a cloth bandage or some gauze to wrap up his hand that had begun to smart. Finding that Tony had finished up the last roll without replacing it, Bruce ventured upstairs, telling Jarvis to shut everything down on his way out. After situating some wrapping around his wrist and hand where the pain was now almost strangely pleasant – a nice distraction, certainly – Banner decided it might be a good idea to sleep for a few hours. And by a few, he meant more like nine or ten. The clock read seven; Tony should be home soon, but Bruce didn't feel like waiting up. He needed an escape, and he needed it _now._

* * *

 

Tony came home to find Bruce curled up in a tight ball on Tony's side of the bed, half covered by sheets. The left side of his skull was pressed firmly into the mechanic's pillow. Tony opted against waking him up,but he didn't really feel like attempting sleep either. He'd actually wanted to talk to Bruce about some stuff – not necessarily what Pepper wanted him to talk about, but still. He'd been at that damn meeting all freaking day. How long could it possibly take to make a few decisions? Tony went over to where Bruce was laying and further covered him with the sheets and the thick comforter, tucking him in. Stark then sat on the edge of the bed by the man's feet, just watching him for a moment. Bruce's steady breathing, the mostly peaceful look on his face, the way he held to his knees and clutched them to his chest, only loosening slightly as sleep had overtaken him. Tony knew that he tried not to sleep in that position when the engineer was there, but he usually ended up shifting through the course of the night. He curled up like he was hiding, which Tony realized he probably had been at for a length of time. It was likely habitual, which was sad to say the least. The two of them rarely spoke of this phenomenon, just as they rarely discussed Tony's anxiety and nightmares. For both of them, things like that were difficult to talk about and much easier to repress indefinitely.

Banner murmured softly in his sleep and curled his fingers over the blankets, urging them even closer. His features became a bit pinched. Tony reached over to stroke Bruce's dark curls, attempting to quell his somewhat distraught expression. It was then that Tony really saw how alike they were, despite having nearly polar opposite personalities. He knew Bruce was struggling – they both were – but he didn't really know what to do about it. Maybe Pepper was right in what she'd said. Sighing quietly, Tony took one last look at the sleeping scientist before heading down to his workshop.

Bruce kind of looked like a cat.

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

"Jarvis, windows."

Light flooded the room as the windows faded from opaque to translucent.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty!"

Bruce groaned. “What the hell, Tony.”

"Get dressed. We're doing shit today."

As Bruce put a pillow over his head, Tony made out the muffled words, "What're we doing?"

"Shit," Tony repeated.

"I got that part. Still doesn't tell me anything."

"I know. Now, get up, get dressed, whatever.”

"Five more minutes," the scientist whined.

Tony cracked a smile and climbed onto the bed until he was straddling the other man. "I could use a good five minutes."

Bruce groaned again and lifted the pillow from his face, blinking at the blinding light. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Waking you up," Tony beamed.

"What time is it?"

"It is currently five minutes past ten AM, sir," Jarvis answered. He sounded cheery.

"Shit." Bruce rubbed his eyes.

Tony nodded. "I came home and you were asleep."

"I kind of... fell asleep early. Fuck, it's been..." He did the calculations quickly in his head. "Fifteen hours."

Tony frowned. "You feelin' okay, buddy?" He touched Bruce's forehead.

"Yeah," Bruce reassured. The Hulk had given a remarkable boost to his immune system, so sickness was pretty rare. “Research still wasn't going great, and I needed to calm down.”

"You want to talk-"

"How was your meeting?" Bruce interrupted.

Tony furrowed his brow. "Uh, good, good. We, uh, well, I'll tell you later. Get ready. We leave in thirty." Tony got up and began walking back toward the door.

"Minutes?"

"No, seconds." Tony mused. "Of course, minutes. You know, for a genius, you're pretty slow in the morning."

Bruce eventually got up, showered, and pulled on some clothes so he'd look halfway decent; he didn't really know what to dress for. He looked in the mirror at the scruffiness that was starting to take over his face and decided it wasn't worth a shave today. Tony would just have to deal. Passing the full body mirror, he stopped and faced it. He looked... a little homeless. Not that the look was foreign to him – hell, he'd been homeless on multiple occasions – but how was it possible to still look like that in clothes bought by a billionaire? Maybe it was worth a shave... but he hadn't the time. Bruce walked into the elevator before he realized he was barefoot. Did he need socks? Not really. Might as well complete the homeless look while he was at it.

Tony was sitting on the lobby couch when Bruce came down. He looked up and grinned widely. “Cute. It's like homeless chic.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said sarcastically. Tony hadn't exactly given him an abundance of time.

Then Tony announced that he was taking Bruce on a date. “It's been a while,” he claimed.

Bruce's heart fluttered for some odd reason. “A date?” Okay, he was definitely not dressed for that sort of thing.

“Yeah, that's that thing people do when they're dating. You know, other than the bedroom stuff, of course.” Tony waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, _I'm_ sorry; I didn't know.” Bruce approached the couch and leaned down so he could touch his lips to Tony's. “Perhaps you should catch me up on the details then.” Yeah, Bruce could flirt. Sort of.

This was totally making up for yesterday; Tony felt much more content. “I'm a very good teacher. The best.” Familiar ego somewhat restored. But then he caught sight of Bruce's hand, which was wrapped up in, what was that, an ACE bandage? Tony thought he was the only one using them. He caught the wounded appendage gently and pushed up Bruce's sleeve; his brow furrowed as he looked up. “What's this?”

Bruce quickly began pushing his sleeve back down. “Oh, nothing. Just lab stuff.” He forced a awkward chuckle.

“Lab stuff...” Tony muttered as he began examining Bruce's arm; he considered unraveling the bandage. “What kinda lab stuff?”

Bruce sighed and looked pleadingly at him. “I got... mad, okay? I mean, not really mad, but more than the 'I'm always angry' kind of mad. It's fine, though. I just wrapped it up again, just in case.”

“In case of what? Your injuries are more temporary than mine.”

With a smile – well, more like a grimace – Bruce said meekly, “I'm just paranoid?”

Tony shook his head and said almost too quietly, “No, you're not. You wanted a reminder.”

Bruce huffed a dry laugh and sarcastically replied, “You know me too well.” Which he did, in fact, know Bruce that well – even though it'd technically only been a few months since they'd first met. That was the weird part.

Pulling at the edge of the cloth, Tony began to remove the covering, without protest from the scientist. “Maybe because you're like me. Or _maybe_ because you're a terrible liar.” A genuine grin grew on his lips.

“Only with you.” Bruce raised a small smile back at him. “And would you look at that, good as new.” He flexed his fingers and carded them through Tony's hair. “So... date?”

“Absolutely.” Tony ogled him with a look of what Bruce cautiously identified as adoration. But even then he couldn't be sure.

Bruce retrieved and shrugged on his jacket. He adjusted the collar of Tony's. As they were about to step into the elevator, Bruce started to reach for the closet door again to grab his duffel bag, always prepared for the worst. Tony, noticing this, grabbed his hand, gave it a little squeeze and said, “Don’t worry, you won’t need that anymore.”

Bruce started to stutter, “ Bu- but you never know, I should always be ready.”

Tony swiftly replied “Like I said, don’t worry. No matter where you go I will always come looking for you, I will always find you, and you will always have a home. It's a 'Mi casa es su casa' kind of a thing.”

Bruce didn't really know how to respond to that. There was an awkward pause, but only a moment before Tony interjected with, “So, I thought we could take the Audi over there,” he suggested. “Or would you prefer a different car?”

“Actually... I was going to ask if we could walk.”

“Hmm, yeah, I guess we could do that.” He smiled. “If you want.”

“It is pretty nice outside...”

Tony had already laced their fingers together, and Bruce was suddenly worrying that his hand was sweaty or he was holding on too tight or not tight enough or that his arm...

He was worrying over _holding hands_. Seriously?

Now he felt just like a lovestruck teenager – inexperienced and relatively unloved, and then along came that guy with the cool attitude and a personal vendetta against the system and a calendar with different ways to have sex. And he'd done all of them. Thankfully, Tony interrupted his thoughts.

“So, I was thinking Sushi of Gari. You like sushi, right?”

“Umm, yeah, but isn't that a little...expensive?” Bruce scuffed his feet against the floor.

Tony gave him an 'Are you kidding me?' kind of a look.

“Right, yeah, I know...” Bruce scratched the back of his neck.

“You're gonna haveta get used to that, babe.” Tony grinned at him. Wow, did he just make another undertone of commitment? This was nothing like his usual self, but it wasn’t weird because it was Bruce. Not only that, but it was intentional, and like, truthful.

Just then the silver doors fwooped open, and Tony stepped out, leading Bruce through the pearly white glow from the marble lobby floors and outside to meet the late morning sun.

* * *

 

“I would think you'd know how to use chopsticks.”

“I always ask for a fork.” Tony shrugged, attempting to pick up another roll.

“You have terrible form.” Bruce snickered.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Why thank you, Mr. Cultured.”

“No problem.” Bruce watched Tony try and failed again to pick up an egg roll. “You sure you don't want help?”

“Nah, I think I figured it out.” He stabbed the roll with the chopsticks, but it promptly flew from his plate and landed on the floor next to their table.

Bruce took the chopsticks from him. “Here.” He adjusted Tony's fingers accordingly. “You hold this one like a pencil. With a clamp here. There is the fulcrum. And you bring it together like this. Got it?”

Tony nodded and winked at him. “Thanks, babe.” He picked up the rice ball perfectly and shoved it into his mouth.

“You dirty liar,” Bruce mumbled with a tilt of his lips.

“Oh, now I'm _dirty_. I like the sound of that, actually.” Tony grinned as a few silent moments passed between them. “So, I was thinking...”

“Oh no, not again,” Bruce teased.

“Hey, let me finish! I was _thinking,_ maybe we should get a pet or something. Someone besides J-Man to keep you company.”

Bruce shrugged. “I don't know if that's the best idea,” he muttered, poking at his food with his chopsticks. “Besides, Dummy and U are always there.”

“They don't count. Come on, Green Bean. You need someone when I'm away at conferences and shit.”

“I'm pretty used to being alone,” Bruce said with a strained smile.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I know that, but that doesn't mean you should be alone _all_ the time. And it's not like I'm asking if Steve can do some work with you; I was thinking more like a cat.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows, inquisitively. “You like cats?”

Tony grinned. “You kidding? I love cats!”

“So, why didn't you get a cat? Like, before?”

“Pepper wouldn't let me,” Tony pouted. “She thought I'd kill it or maim it somehow.”

Bruce chuckled; that sounded about right. “Alright, well, as much as I'd like...” Bruce trailed off, unsure of how to verbalize his thought. “We'd have to get it... declawed; I don't wanna risk a simple scratch turning into a biohazard.”

Tony nodded. “Okay.” He smiled with a twitch of his eyebrows. Bruce was totally going along with his idea.

* * *

 

After leaving the restaurant, the two of them began walking around until they were standing somewhere in Central Park when Tony stopped, turned to face Bruce, and pulled him into the grass so that people could pass by. “Tell me something about you. I wanna know everything.”

“You already know everything important.”

“Well, I want to know every single insignificant detail. I want to know how you like your sandwiches sliced – because triangles taste better, but everyone's entitled to a wrong opinion – and what you think of string theory and what was your first kiss like and why is it when I hold your hand, you move your thumb in circles over the dorsum of mine?”

Bruce's eyes widened with curiosity and he looked down at their adjoined hands. Sure enough, he was doing that thing with his thumb. He grinned sheepishly. “And what if I can't come up with good answers?”

“Then I'll keep asking until you can. Here, ask me something.” Tony clapped his hands together and gave him a ‘come at me’ gesture.

Bruce's mouth twisted in thought as he decided on a question. “What's your favorite color?”

Tony chuckled at the simplicity of his question. “Maybe red. Or blue. No, no, chartreuse. That's a color, right? I like the way it sounds.” He leaned in. “The way it feels on my lips.” His lips met Bruce's. “What's your favorite color?” He murmured close to Bruce's mouth.

Bruce grinned sheepishly and thought about how they were still in a public place, no matter how few people were around. This was beyond atypical for him, yet it didn't seem to matter. “Would it be horrible if I said green?”

Stark smirked. “I like green.”

“Well, that's good I guess, but it's not green.”

“What is it then?”

“I don't know, purple?”

“You look good in purple. And most other colors. Except for orange, that you look terrible in. But I think you look best in nothing ” Tony whispered in his ear. “At all.”

“You really want to know why I do the thing with my thumb?” Bruce asked softly, clearing his throat a bit.

Tony hummed in agreement, trailing kisses down the side of Bruce's throat while slowly embracing him.

“Well, it's mostly instinctual, but I have a thing for circles.”

Looking at him with inquisition, Tony asked, “You have a _thing_ for circles?”

With a slight tilt of his lips, Bruce gazed downward and nodded. “Yeah.”

“What does that mean?” Tony's nose nudged at Bruce's stubble-ridden jaw.

“Circles are... comforting,” he said carefully. “They follow a perpetual pattern, with a center and shape but no sides to be fooled by and no sharp edge to harm you. Circles are the same measure from every angle you look. There's no deception. A personal bubble.”

Tony smiled at him. “That's cute.”

Bruce chuckled softly. “It's math.”

“Whatever you say, Robert Frost.”

His cheeks flushing, Bruce turned his head as if to say, 'I'm no poet.'

“See, now _that's_ definitely a good color on you.”

“What is? This?” Confused, Banner gestured to his black jacket.

“Actually, I was talking about the pink in your cheeks. It's cute.”

Bruce's blush deepened. “...thanks.”

Tony grinned and kissed Bruce on a flushed cheek; his lips were gelid now, which made Bruce realize just how chilly the air had become already.

“Are you cold?”

Tony nodded, folding his arms over his chest and shivering despite himself as the frigid wind picked up a bit. Bruce curved an arm around Tony's waist, pulling him in from the side so they could start walking again. He held tight, trying to transfer some of his warmth to Tony, whose heat was somewhat limited by the metal in his chest.

And boy was Bruce _warm._ At least in comparison to Tony. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Simultaneously retain and give off heat. You're like a radiator.”

“Why, too warm?”

“No no, perfect.” Tony snuggled even closer.

“Quite possibly one of the more fortunate side effects of my, err, accident.”

Tony frowned and said with an edge of doubt, “Whenever you say _accident,_ I think _mistake._ ”

“Well, it _was_ a mistake.” Because how could it not have been?

“But if you hadn't made it, we probably would've never met,” Stark countered.

Banner was silent for a moment, thinking it over. “That's true,” he conceded, finally. “We probably wouldn't have.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't have done all of this without the help of an editor's editor editing his edited edits.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairly short chapter. So sorry for the delay. Next chapter's already written, so I'll post that really soon.

The next nine days were actually pretty decent. Tony left Bruce alone in the lab most of the time, they ate home cooked meals and ordered take-out to eat over soapstone tables and glass lab benches. Tony could probably use some more sleep, though. Whatever, though. Not really priority as far as he was concerned. Far more important things were on the agenda.

“Break time, Dr. Jekyll.”

“Mm?” Bruce looked up from his work, one end of his glasses between his teeth. His curls were in awry and stuck out at odd ends that practically begged for some tugging. He skipped a button on his shirt, and half of it wasn't even tucked in. The lab coat, though. That was endearing.

Tony smiled at him. “You've got that whole mad scientist thing going on. You should take a break,” he said, looking at one of the many glowing screens. “Come on. We're going out.”

Bruce removed the frames from his mouth and grinned a little. “Okay, fine. Where are we going?” He sat back, nearly falling before he realized there was no back to the stool he'd chosen to sit on.

“You'll see.”

“Hmm, to trust or not to trust...”

“Well, you've put up with me for this long, so I'd say trusting is pretty good here. Would I ever steer you wrong?”

“Well, there _was_ that one time...”

“Shhh,” Tony said, placing a finger to Bruce's lips. “We don't need to talk about that. This is totally different.” Bruce rolled his eyes and puckered his lips against the pad of Tony's finger, causing the engineer to grin and waggle his eyebrows. “Good day?”

“Hoping it's about to be one,” Bruce murmured.

After Bruce had fixed his disheveled look, which was after Tony had effectively made it worse by messing with the scientist's unruly curls with all that tugging and playing and kissing that was really actually quite nice, they made their way to the elevator, only to be met by the clicking of heels and an accusing voice asking, “Where do you think you're going?”

Tony sighed and turned around, his hand still holding Bruce's, to face Pepper Potts, who had one hand on her hip and the other clutching an official-looking Stark Industries clipboard. “We're going out, _Mom._ Don't worry, I'll be home before curfew.”

Red lipsticked lips formed a frown. “You have homework.”

“I'll do it later. Bruce and I are going out.”

Bruce gaze lowered from Pepper's face to the floor.

“Out _where?_ ” Her arms were now crossed over a sleek black suit that was accompanied by a matching pencil skirt.

Tony shrugged. “Just out.”

Bruce glanced up then, and Pepper's eyes were trained on him, asking him to tell her information he didn't know. “He wanted to get me out of the lab...”

The CEO's gaze softened. “Okay, that's fine.” She turned back to Tony.” But you have homework to do later. I'd leave it in your workshop, but the password changed mysteriously for the third time this week.”

Strolling toward the elevator, Bruce in tow, Tony called behind, “TheInvincibleIronMan. No spaces.”

* * *

 

The two men stepped into the pet store and were met right away with various noises and smells. Tony wrinkled his nose a little at the wall full of windows where dogs peered eagerly from their cages, rats scurried around within plastic barriers, and hamsters ran in the same wheel over and over and over again like they expected it to take them someplace new. Bruce hated seeing the animals caged up. A chocolate lab with big sad eyes stared at him and whined. "I know how you feel, man. I'm sorry."

Tony strode ahead as they made their way to the cats, who promptly began hissing at Bruce and cowering away, fur standing on end.

“What the…”

Bruce swallowed and edged away from the enclosure windows with a grimace. “Predatory pheromones.”

Tony’s eyes widened a fraction. “Oh. Do you… want to leave? I mean…”

“No, it should be... I’m fine.”

Yeah, but if that cats didn’t like him then what the hell were they even doing in a pet store? Whatever. If Bruce said it was fine, it was going to have to be fine. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Bruce nodded. “I’m sure.” He wasn't going to ruin this.

Tony's eyes lit up as a small furball peered up at him from the meet-and-greet section. The attending clerk, a perky brunette woman, was working with an older couple who was looking for a cat that was old enough to be mellow and sleep calmly at the foot of the bed but young enough that they could point a piercing laser beam at its paws and watch it squirm. So most of the cats were left unattended in a five by five waist-height cubicle. “Aww, look at 'im. He's so cute.” Tony bent down to pet the little creature that was brushing against his leg.

Bruce blushed as he watched his boyfriend's adorable little display. But when Tony tried to nudge the kitten Bruce’s way, it hissed and darted away and Bruce was no longer crouching. He tried to look casual. Like it really wasn’t a big deal and everything was fine. There were few animals that had ever actually liked Bruce, and the ones that had were nice to have for the time being, even if that time was cut short by interrupting factors like military generals.

Tony and shifted closer to Bruce, who was scanning the room and its unyielding commotion. A new, smaller kitten sniffed gawkily in Bruce's direction, wide orbs admiring the doctor curiously. Tony scooped the glorified piece of lint off the floor, and it promptly squirmed until it was in proper position to climb up to his shoulder.

“Here. Take this one.” Tony practically thrust a small black cat into Bruce's arms, which caught the scientist by surprise. But then the little thing nuzzled close to his neck and purred as he stroked its soft fur, scratching behind its too-big ears.

“Hey, little guy,” he said softly. Its little golden eyes stared up at him in wonder and contentment, only sliding closed when Bruce's finger met the little gray stripe that ran down the middle of its head.

Tony's mouth twisted in thought. “Yep. That's the one,” he announced.

“Hmm?” Bruce looked at him quizzically.

“What do we name him? Lucky?”

“How original,” Bruce mused playfully.

“Well, what do you wanna call him?”

Bruce thought for a moment and got an idea. “Schrodinger?”

“Oh, yeah! I like that.” Tony smiled widely. His little nerd. Not that they both weren't geniuses, but still.

* * *

 

“Oh! No, don't-” Bruce sighed heavily as yet another empty beaker crashed to the floor, along with two pairs of tongs, a small stack of paper, and Bruce's stress ball, which rolled and bounced across the room, happy to be freed from its perch on some stupid Hulk action figure Tony had bought and presented to Bruce in the manner someone would present the world with a cure for cancer.

Schrodinger hopped off the counter and scurried away from the scene of her crime. The peppy brunette employee, whose name had turned out to be Kathy, had kindly informed them that Schrodinger was a she, rather than a he. But the name stuck.

“Hey, I saw that!” Bruce couldn't help but smile as the kitten peered at him from inside an empty delivery box. “Hey, Schrodinger. You want a treat? Wanna treat?” Was Bruce using baby talk? Oops. That was weird.

Schrodinger crept out from his hiding place and approached the treats, which she happily nibbled from Bruce's hand and licked the crumbs with a small, rough, pink tongue.

He was quite enjoying having the little creature around, though. Even if it was against his better judgment. One, for letting Schrodinger in the lab, and two for, well, a much... greener reason. But Tony had convinced him, as he so often did, that this was a good idea and everything was fine. So Bruce pushed aside his paranoia as best he could, ignoring the worry that niggled in the back of his mind along with the separate consciousness that resided there.

He was slowly gaining a normal life. He had a near-normal relationship, he had a normal job (as promised, SHIELD had left him to his own affairs again), he did normal things like eat out and shop for groceries and sleep in a bed, and everything was just, well, normal. He was relaxing. This was good. His control was intact like that year in Calcutta, and the last two incidents he had were likely flukes. The optimism, though. That was really new.

He and Tony worked together and ate together and talked and watched movies together. They flirted and fought and kissed and bickered. They laughed at each other's jokes and stayed for the pain. Bruce had found someone again. And for that, more than nearly anything else, he was grateful.

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some smut! It's kind of a big moment for them.

After these last few weeks, Bruce was decided he was going to try his best to get close – well, closer. It was odd, to him, to just touch someone if he felt like it. So, the physicist decided he was capable of learning it all over again. He had to face his fears. Even if it meant raising his heart rate a bit more than he was used to.

Bruce found Tony in his workshop, of course, looking at about four screens at once. The doctor mustered up all of his willpower and practically ambushed him from behind, murmuring the man's name in his ear as a sort of code so that he wouldn't think he was being attacked. He wrapped his strong arms around Tony's middle, holding him as closely as possible, burying his face between Tony's neck and shoulder.

“Am I missing something?” Tony asked, clearly surprised. He let his hand come up to stroke Bruce's curls.

“No, but I was.”

“Oh. Well, that helps. A lot.”

“Sooo... I was thinking...” Bruce could feel his face already growing hot.

“You always are,” Tony mused.

“No, I mean I was thinking maybe it's time we take our, um, relationship to the next... level,” Bruce said softly.

Tony twisted slightly to look at him. He saw the most adorably bashful smile on Bruce's lips, along with a pink blush that spanned his cheeks. “You wanna have sex?” Tony asked blatantly, raising a curious eyebrow.

Bruce's face quickly flushed beet red. “...something like that, yes.”

“Ah, well then, Doctor. This way.” He released himself from Bruce's embrace and pulled him toward the elevator. The scientist stumbled after him.

“Now?” Bruce asked nervously.

Tony halted for a moment. “Is that _not_ what you meant?”

“Well, I don't... I guess... I mean, it's, well, I want, and you-”

Tony stopped the man's stuttering with a luscious kiss against the back wall of the elevator. He slid his tongue against Bruce's teeth and bit his bottom lip. “How's that?”

Bruce's lips quirked into a smile. “Acceptable.”

Tony relocked their lips, determined to turn _acceptable_ into something less coherent. He didn't think he'd ever been so excited for sex in his entire life – not even when he was younger. Like, finally being able to touch Bruce? This was totally worth the wait, he realized. It was almost overwhelming how much he wanted to show Bruce how much he loved him, how _good_ it would feel to love someone again. They both sort of needed that at this point. It was only when they got to their floor that Tony released him and pinched Banner's buttocks, receiving a small yelp in return.

As soon as they got into their room – or Tony's room, not that Bruce really used his anymore – Stark proceeded to kiss his boyfriend once more. The scientist's eyes flickered around nervously. Oh god, they were really going to do it, weren't they? He was going to have to get really, _really_ close. The thought was as unnerving as it was intoxicating. His heart was fucking _pounding_ , yet he didn't seem to be losing control. If anything, he was losing control of his sex drive.

Tony tried his hardest not to just rip Bruce's shirt off, and pulled at the infuriating buttons, deciding that if one broke off, he could just buy the man a new shirt. He finally got the damn thing off and left his own in place. Bruce watched as he lowered himself, planting kisses that tickled Bruce's nerves rather than set them on fire with a frantic feeling of proximity. Tony was at his knees now, pulling at Bruce's belt, button, and zipper until his pants were around his ankles. Bruce didn't try to stop him. When the boxers came off, Banner tensed a bit in apprehension, and Tony looked up for approval.

“Still acceptable?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said. It was almost a squeak, but it was all he could manage.

But that all faded when Tony put his mouth on Bruce's erection – when did that get there? – and flitted his tongue around skillfully.

Bruce knees gave almost immediately, and he nearly sunk to the floor. “Oh god, Tony...”

Tony glanced up at him with an amused grin. “I've hardly started, babe.”

He regained his position and began working Bruce's cock with his mouth, eliciting small whimpers from the other man. Bruce curled his hands into fists and braced his bare bottom against the wall. Tony began to stroke Bruce's length with his hand, gradually moving faster.

Now, Bruce was desperate to be touched. His legs trembled and his hips bucked against Tony's mouth and hand involuntarily. If Bruce had been in a normal state of mind, he would have been wildly embarrassed for all of this, especially fucking someone's face – namely that of Tony Stark – so perhaps it was good that he could hardly think straight. A low moan caught in his throat.

“C'mon Bruce, you know you can let it out. Let go for me,” Tony purred.

It was so, _so_ tempting hearing Tony's voice like that, his breath hot against his cock. A higher pitched noise escaped Bruce's mouth. Tony shuddered; that was wonderful. He let his tongue grace Bruce's tip, hoping for another lovely moan. One was elicited in the form of Tony's name. With his fists clenching and unclenching, Bruce didn't quite know what to do with his hands, so he settled one atop Tony's head, lightly tugging at the man's lush, dark locks. Tony's head bobbed underneath. Bruce's back arched tightly.

He gasped. “Tony, I think I'm going to...” His voice was a bit strangled. “You should... stop...”

Tony took his mouth away, but left his hand on the base of Bruce's penis – the head covered in a mix of saliva and pre-cum. “Ohhh, you're a quick one, aren't ya? You _really_ want me to stop?” A smile played at Tony's lips, studying Bruce's face, which was contorted with a fatal combination of distress and ecstasy.

“It's probably... a good idea,” Bruce gasped.

“Doesn't look like one. You're too close,” he said, a hand resting on Bruce's thigh, and resumed the action, working Bruce's length for a while until he came with great force and one loud, shuddering moan that vibrated through the both of them.

“Oh that was...” Bruce's eyes were closed as he groaned. _Wonderful._ Orgasm flowed through him like it hadn't in years. “But I- I want to make you feel good, too,” he panted.

“You want sex or...” Tony prompted.

“Sex sounds... nice.” Bruce said weakly, his voice taut with nerves.

Nice. He was being reduced to _nice._ No, not reduced, Tony reminded himself. This was the farthest they'd gone, and it was going really well. The fact that his pants were tighter and Bruce's weren't even on reminded him of that. “And you'll be okay?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“I... I think so...”

“Bruce, I'm not asking if the Other Guy will make an appearance, I'm asking if _you're_ okay with us having sex.”

That question seemed tricky, but really it was quite simple. “Oh. Well then, yes.”

Tony kissed him lightly and led Bruce over to the bed, helping him to lie down at the end of it. He then walked away to retrieve a condom and an unopened bottle of lubricant from his nightstand. Tony unzipped his jeans and pulled them all the way off – along with his boxer briefs – relieving much of the tension down there. He rolled the condom onto himself, covering it generously with lubricant. The mechanic positioned himself against the edge of the bed, directly in front of Bruce. “We'll take it slow.” He looked to Bruce for authorization. Trailing a hand from Bruce's chest to his hip, he asked, “Ready?”

Bruce nodded apprehensively. “Yeah.” He wanted to sound firm and reassuring, not only for Tony but for himself.

Tony bent down and let his fingers enter Bruce first. The scientist whimpered slightly; his eyes were squeezed shut. Tony rubbed the other man's leg. “Just relax,” he soothed. Then, once Bruce had unwound just enough, Stark entered him slowly. Bruce grabbed at the sheets beneath him, twisting them beneath his fingers.

“This okay?”

Bruce nodded furiously. The sight pain, which was mostly just premonition, was subsiding, ultimately masked by the feeling of Tony inside him. Tony's hips rocked slowly against him, pushing just slightly further in. God, that actually felt pleasurable now. But not too much so. Couldn't let it. Still, he moaned softly as Tony moved a bit faster.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” Bruce gasped. Because it was, really.

Sweat was starting to bead from Stark's forehead. Oh, this already felt so _good._ Better than the showers. Tony rocked against him, murmuring Bruce's name between pants. Then he leaned further downward, changing their position slightly. This gave Bruce the opportunity to tug at Tony's dark t-shirt, pulling it up slightly. If he was going to touch Tony, he wanted to touch every inch of him and make sure he was still there, that Bruce was still Bruce and Tony still wanted him there. The engineer looked down at him and grinned a little. Tony gave in, taking his shirt all the way off and casting it aside, letting the blue arc reactor light glow between their bodies.

“God, you're so brilliant like this,” Tony murmured.

“This is not when usually I hear that sort of thing,” Bruce replied with a huffing laugh.

That was the comfortable part. The part where he was with Tony, who would love him and take care of him and trust him. But the other part. The other _guy._ That was far trickier. Bruce really wanted to give back, and he was trying, but the need for control was imminent. He'd tried not to count the years since he'd felt someone like this, since he'd had sex, since he'd even held someone's hand other than Tony's; his situation created complications no one wanted to deal with – and Bruce didn't blame them.

He rocked his hips in rhythm with Tony's, not knowing what to do with his legs at this point, as Tony was holding them up a bit. Bruce was enjoying it – the wonderful hot tingling that engulfed his nervous system as hormones flooded in his brain – but maybe not as much as he should be. Acute observation would give him approximate heart rate, as well as skin pigmentation and what could be done to make Tony feel good. But he needed to make himself feel good, too. This was a mutual thing. If he could only stop thinking so much like before! Then Tony calling his name swam through his ears, and pulled him to the surface awash with in-the-moment thoughts. Everything was fine – no disasters, heart rate wasn't even near the point of destructive, and nothing was green.

Bruce could do this. He _wanted_ to do this.

With that thought, Bruce shifted further onto the bed, so that Tony could rest his knees on the mattress. They were both grateful for the change as Bruce's legs became wrapped around Tony's torso in a sort of delightful entanglement. Tony thrust against him, now with feverish intent as both let out sighs and whimpers of delectation, along with the ever-present _n-no, a little over..._ and  _yes,_   _just like that_. Bruce was thrusting back, like actually engaging and watching Tony's aroused expression, almost with a sense of pride. Stark's muscles were taut and glistening with sweat as he closed his eyes and shouted one final time before coming with a primal grunt and a jerk of his hips. They both exhaled deeply as Tony slid out and removed the condom, tying it off before flopping onto the bed next to his partner.

“Well that was...” No other word came to Bruce's mind besides _sex._ He'd just had sex with genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist Tony Stark, who was also his boyfriend of what was approximately three months – he couldn't even focus on counting exacts – and Bruce hadn't Hulked-out once. What word describes all of that?

“Stupendous.” Tony winked at him, giving him a bit of an 'I-told-you-so' look.

Bruce laughed easily. “Yeah, that would be the word.”

“Want me... to take care of that?” Tony breathed, gesturing Bruce's erection.

“No, I think I got this one.” Bruce couldn't help but wonder how he'd even gotten hard again so fast. He turned away slightly, but Tony reached up to pull at his arm.

“Don't have to be so shy about it.” He grinned.

Bruce smiled back and faced in Tony's general direction. He worked at relieving the slight throbbing of his cock, putting on a bit of a show for the other man, who was now sitting up on his elbows to watch. Bruce stroked lightly at first and then a bit faster, his eyes closed, face determined, before letting go onto the dark sheets beneath him. He slowly opened his eyes and smiled back at his boyfriend. They both laid back down; the air filled with the sound of hot and heavy breaths.

As the nervous energy in the room diminished, Tony shifted beneath the covers and invited Bruce to join him. He wrapped his arms around the doctor, who was allowing himself to be held because he knew if Tony removed his body from this position, Bruce would be left with the feeling of emptiness turning his insides boreal. They both would, actually. As Tony shifted against his back, the arc reactor's initial cold was becoming less prevalent, and Bruce could feel the just the hardness of it and Tony's soft warmth behind him. Tony's breath tickled the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Bruce twitched. Not hard, but enough to send vibrations into the other man's body.

"You okay?" Tony asked softly into the other man's shoulder.

"Yeah." Bruce smiled. He was just fine.


End file.
